A Special Place….Pleasant Hill Plantation

By Gillian Casstevens

As I joke with many about my neurotic obsessions and fears of the outdoors, I am reminded of the many riches my husband has given me. I am not talking about jewelry and material things (as some princesses would), but I am speaking of the gift of nature and its’ many beauties. Mike introduced me to these in the low country just a few miles south of Estill.

Mike was the manager of Pleasant Hill Plantation when I first met him. One of the first things I noticed and learned about Mike (other than his James Bond good looks), was this was a man who absolutely loved his job. The owner of Pleasant Hill, Dr. Harrison Peeples - fondly referred to as “Doc” - spent many hours telling Mike of his hopes and dreams for maintaining and enhancing the thousands of acres. Mike spent a lot of his time with Doc and his wife, “Miss Lib,” looking at their special place through their eyes, through their hopes, and envisioning their mental pictures of what it could be.
For Mike, it was much like being home. Often we would spend our Friday night date nights driving through the property, parking by the pond to enjoy the peace and tranquility of a spring night, or sitting quietly waiting and watching for feeding deer. On cool days (snake-safe days) we would load up Mike’s dog, Buck, and head out to walk in the woods as Buck would flush the deer out for our pleasure! Of course, “Tara Afta” was always a favorite place for me as I could just imagine a huge pre-civil war house sitting at the top of the row of majestic live oaks. It is a place you can sit and get lost in time.

Indeed, Mike taught me so much about nature and how it all works together. Things I never would have given thought to at all. Many nights I would ride with him to check on controlled burns or for him to check on beaver dams, deer feeders, gators in the pond, trespassers, you name it, we checked it! Mike was totally in sync with everything at Pleasant Hill. It would flourish in the spring under his landscaping skills year round, and it rested in the winter months only to lend its’ beauty to the many hunters who sat in a stand or went on a quail hunt.

Mike gave Pleasant Hill ten years of his life. During that time he never once took a vacation. The little weekend getaways we had were always filled with his worry of what might happen there while he was gone. He lived and breathed with the animals and forestry of that property. He treated that land with a respect I have seen in no other, that respect stemming from his kinship with Doc and his appreciation of nature found early in his childhood in North Carolina.

Doc fought bravely against his Alzheimer’s. Mike watched one of Hampton County’s most beloved physician and philanthropist decline rapidly and he stood firmly by his side to the end. Mike would take Doc for endless rides on the property and valued the time with this wise man. Doc died in May of 2006 and with his death many changes occurred in Mike. His zest was gone and replaced with a constant reminder of those visions Doc and Miss Lib had for such a “pleasant” place. Mike and I became engaged in June of 2006 and the first person he called after our girls was Miss Lib. I always thought he would propose to me at “Tara Afta,” but he took me to the park he helped build which was donated by the Peeples’ family and dedicated to Dr. Peeples prior to his death. I think it became apparent to all that Mike was making some big life- altering decisions and what was to come.

In my heart I knew Mike’s personal mission ended with Doc. Mike was proud of Pleasant Hill and truly lost his vision as Doc’s were laid to rest. After many weeks of his mental debating, Mike decided to leave the plantation. Although the decision was a huge one for him, I do not think it was hard for him to make. I think what was harder was watching the end of such a legacy.

Mike moved into town and it took some adjusting, but he finally was having fun again as he went to work for Wise Batten, Inc. and still gets to play outside all day and get paid for it! A few months after Mike’s departure, the home he lived in at Pleasant Hill burnt. A total loss and now there is no trace of what once stood as his home on that great big “pleasant” place.

I feel a deep sadness now when I drive by there as slow and sure, the images I have in my mind, flash quickly by. Mike’s two daughters basically grew up there and I can still see an 8-year old Faith flying by on a four wheeler with a huge smile plastered on her face. I am fortunate to have learned about nature and wildlife from Mike while visiting that glorious plantation. Doc and Miss Lib have truly left a beautiful legacy for their children and grandchildren while sharing such beauty with those lucky enough to visit that land.

The knowledge I gained through Mike is a gift I will always cherish, as much as Mike cherishes his time at Pleasant Hill. I must thank Doc and Miss Lib also as I fell in love not just with their plantation, but with their dedicated manager on one of those long drives amongst nature.

Rest in peace Doc and know your legacy lives on in more ways than one!

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I have always said that I would wear a pink tutu if it would help me kill a monster buck. Well now Gillian has gone out and proved that it is a pink polo and jeans that I need… Enjoy her latest contribution!

The Truth About Camoflage

Over the past few years I have watched more than my fair share of hunting and wildlife programs on television with my husband. More often than not, I do not pay too much attention to them as I find watching an animal being shot a bit disturbing, maybe even sad. I am not a hunter. I cannot shoot an animal, unless of course I had to in order to save my own hide…or that of someone else. Regardless, I am not a fan of outdoor shows. But what I really find hysterical are all of the products on the market for hunters that are advertised on them! After numerous trips to Bass Pro and other outdoor sections of stores, I applaud the industry for such marketing and at the same time, laugh at the consumer.

Why is it a deer hunter must dress in camouflage to sit perched in a deer stand where nobody nor animal can see them anyway? Okay, I know the simple answer is to blend into your environment, but if deer are color blind (and how do we know this to be true anyway) how can they tell you are wearing olive drab or hot pink? I was running this all by my husband and he is the first to say, he does not wear camo to deer hunt. Matter of fact, I have his next hunting outfit already lined up for him…..Levi’s and a pastel pink polo shirt. After all, how many times have you seen a picture of a slain buck and the hunter NOT dressed in camo? Mike will be the first and I promise to post that picture! For that matter, I would like to challenge all the hunters to don a pink shirt and jeans and see how that works. Forget the expensive “scent-lock” suits, the doe urine, the expensive cammie-wear, and just try it. Cammie green is not the universal color….it just does not look good on everyone. I’m thinking our local hardware store, Wiggins & Son, should carry a pink polo line for serious hunters looking for a different approach!

When I sat in the stand last year during the rut and took those awesome pictures, I was not wearing camo…matter of fact, I had on a pair of nice khaki pants and a gorgeous maroon pullover, okay, they were a brand name but they were not camo! And I promise you, I was not wearing “eau de doe.” If I had been a hunter, I easily could have picked my trophy buck that night NOT wearing camo.
Another thing, what is the deal with a “shooter’s shirt?” Not to blow my own horn, but I am married to “One Shot” and soon after we began dating, Mike took me out to the long range to shoot. He was floored with my shooting skills and I often joke with him to take me to the range with him and the boys, however, I think he is worried I might show them all up! Although I do not know anything about hunting, I do know a few things about shooting. Each year at work I qualify with a 9mm, M16 and shotgun and that is really all the shooting I do. Somehow I manage quite well to qualify without wearing one of these “shooters’ shirts.” To rationalize this, I suppose for those hunters who make lots of shots (and miss), they might require the extra padding, but in my line of work you have to make the first shot count. I’m thinking in hunting this theory would also apply?

I was chatting with my hairdresser about this during my last “color enhancement” and she compared the whole hunting attire/fashion to us girls who shop for name brand clothing. She’s right, I should stop harping on this and be glad my husband doesn’t fuss at all the shopping I do, or road trips I take with my friends, but regardless of what I wear to go shopping, my trips out are always successful!
I challenge all of you hunters to find a nice pink polo, a nice fitting pair of jeans, and hit the stands. Let me know how it works for you and don’t forget to take a picture!!! After all, look what James Bond can do in a tuxedo! Oooolala!

Gillian

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My first time in a deer stand was two weeks before the season opened and my husband, Mike, wanted to take me out to just “look” as he would say. After my first walk in the woods with him, I was quite hesitant and adamant that I was not traipsing through the woods and was not really thrilled about sitting in the heat of early August. I just could not disappoint him and not go after holding fast to my dislike of walking in the woods, so I toughened up, put on a cool outfit and headed out to the deer stand with Mike.

Having never been in a deer stand, I had no expectations. Oh, I had some fears, and mainly it was of snakes and ticks, but I put on a brave face (and tons of insect repellent) and headed out. We rode the four wheeler out and walked the rest of the way in so as not to spook his white-tailed friends. I must say, when I saw the stand perched high up in the tree, I thought for sure I would die before I made the climb up. Those who know me know I am not fond of heights. I know, I know, I have a lot of quirks, but hey, remember, I’m the princess! Trying to stay quiet was pretty hard when I was sweating like I had sat in a sauna for hours and really felt like hyperventilating. Try having a panic attack and remaining quiet. Doesn’t work well!

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Like I promised, I have a new story from Gillian this Monday morning. She heard the calls and comments for another great feature article, so she got right to work on it. And she wanted me to let everyone know that she truly appreciates all of the support that she has received and that it has really inspired her to write more. She also says that she will consider doing her own blog, but that for now she is happy contributing her work here (and I am happy to have it!). Therefore to make sure she gets recognized for her work, I have started a new page at the top of my site for her contributions. I will continue to post her writings, but I hate when popular stories and articles get bumped from the main page, so I will also put them in there to make it easy for readers to find all of her work in the future.

I also love to hear that she is inspired by everyone’s comments, because I know that I am too! They are what has kept me going over the last year - and 203 posts! I didn’t even realize that it had been that long and that many articles until I logged in this morning. A HUGE thank you to everyone that reads lowcountryhunting.com, especially my fellow bloggers, for your support. I would not have made it this far without you…

And I am sorry that I did not get a good picture of my “giant” bass that I caught yesterday while on a fishing excursion with the family. We hit our friend’s pond for a late afternoon session hoping for some quality family time and hopefully a bite or two. Unfortunately, with the water real low due to our drought, the only bites we were getting were from the sand gnats. So we were about to pack it in when I reminded my wife that we could only leave after we caught at least one fish… that is our rule when fishing or arrowhead hunting. Low and behold, right after I said that, I felt a hit. So I yanked my pole back, set the hook and reeled my monster in… a two ounce bass! My wife laughed so hard at her “great” fisherman/husband that she nearly fell off of the dock. I tell you, she is one hard woman to impress!

A ROMANTIC WALK IN THE WOODS?  No thanks! by Gillian Casstevens

Those who know me well, know I am definitely not an outdoorsey type. Much to my husband’s dismay, I was not reared in the world of outdoors men activity. My father did not take us hunting as kids, as he was a career Air Force man and the most time we all had together was spent traveling and visiting all parts of this wonderful country and a few foreign lands. Learning about different cultures and visiting national monuments was at the top of our list of things to do. My sisters and I were the little princesses and in retrospect, quite pampered little royalty we were indeed. I never had to toil in the yard, never started a lawn mower (that was my brother, the Prince’s job), and certainly never sat down to a meal which included wild game. Never. I do not think my mother (our Queen Mother) would have allowed it in the castle to be quite honest.

Now some of you may think how sad that is…that we never had venison steak or rabbit stew. Never shot a turkey and dressed it for Thanksgiving. Nope. My mother being Assyrian, brought culture to our table in the form of stuffed grape leaves or lamb kabobs, but never deer kabobs, Bambi burgers or Peter Rabbit Stew. While living in Spain, we lived amongst the Spaniards and ate such delicacies as escargot, squid in its’ own ink, and steak tartar, but never wild game.

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